Eggs in My Lap
by Kiki Cabou
Summary: Hedwig is expecting.  Expect the unexpected.  :D  Takes place during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Wow, it's been a while. Well, here you are – a Hedwig story! Hopefully, as someone typed to me once, "itz teh cute." Enjoy. This takes place during Harry's sixth year.

**EGGS IN MY LAP**

Chapter 1: _In Which Hedwig Is Fat_

Harry took a large gulp of pumpkin juice and reached across Ron for the bacon plate. He'd asked for it twice, but Ron hadn't heard him, since he was in the middle of a heated debate with Hermione over some ridiculous topic; Harry had lost the drift, but they were down to "Yes it was!" "Was not!" back and forth by this point anyway, so it didn't really matter. Full of energy and food, they were barreling along above the din of clanking china, thumping bowls, clattering silverware, and overlapping conversations about Quidditch, homework, lipstick, and broomsticks going on the length of Gryffindor table and elsewhere in the Great Hall.

It was breakfast as usual at Hogwarts.

Harry extricated the plate from around Ron's elbow just as Ron gestured at Hermione with a forkful of fried eggs.

"Oh yeah, well what makes YOU the expert?" he said, and pointed at her with his utensil. He was a little too hard with it and momentum did the rest. The eggs flew off in a graceful parabolic arc and landed in Hermione's unfinished granola.

"Oh, Ron! Eww! And I'm not an 'expert,' I just read up on it last night!"

Harry ignored both of them and transferred a few strips of bacon to his plate. It wasn't for him – he'd had some already. It was for Hedwig, who would be arriving with the post owls any time now. Harry rarely got post, but Hedwig had made a habit of stopping by every Monday to hang out on his shoulder for a while, and thick-cut Canadian bacon was her favorite type of meat treat. Harry always made sure to put a little aside for her when she came to visit.

There was the usual commotion as the post owls glided in, swooping down over tables and looking for their owners. Girls and boys all over the Hall reached up or whistled to signal their birds to drop packages and envelopes from home. Harry merely held up some bacon, waiting for Hedwig to do her usual trick – swoop down and fly low across the table, pick up the morsel in her talons, and catch an up-draft before returning to settle on Harry's shoulder, treat clasped tightly in her beak. Hermione always enjoyed this, although most of the other Gryffindors had gotten blasé about it.

Harry saw the white form heading his way out of the corner of one eye, and held the bacon still. He was not prepared for what happened. Hedwig was attempting to swoop down and catch the bacon as usual, but something was very wrong. She was trying to lose altitude, but it was happening too fast; flapping looked way too hard, and she was sinking like a stone. Harry didn't notice this until it was too late.

The landing was a catastrophe. She missed the bacon completely and instead clattered onto Harry's nearly clean plate, skritching her talons everywhere in an attempt to stay upright, beating her wings in distress and hooting loudly. Hedwig had a decent wingspan for an owl her size. She took out a couple of goblets of pumpkin juice, as well as the pitcher of milk, and managed to make quite a mess (and a scene) before Harry was able to calm her down.

"Whoa, Hedwig, easy!" he said, dropping the bacon and trying to get his panicked owl under control. "Easy!"

It was all Harry could think of to say, but it seemed to work. Most of the students who had noticed the fracas grew bored now that it was over and turned their attention elsewhere. Hedwig managed to fold up her wings and stand reasonably still while Harry, Ron, and Hermione cleaned up most of the spills. Harry had pumpkin juice all over his lap and Hermione had gotten some milk on her, but both of them were ignoring this in favor of Hedwig, who had their complete attention.

Harry began to pet her. This was the weirdest thing he'd seen his owl do in a while, and it worried him. She looked very embarrassed about her entrance, or about as embarrassed as an owl can look about anything. Harry saw it clearly, though. Somewhere along the line he had developed a habit of talking to Hedwig (and thinking about her) as though she were a person, so her embarrassment was probably more obvious to him than a casual observer. She also looked a tad dizzy. Her brilliant yellow eyes weren't focusing very well.

"What's the matter with you, girl?" he asked her gently, smoothing down some ruffled feathers on her head. "Are you feeling all right?"

He wasn't really considering her that closely, so he didn't immediately see the problem. Ron did, though. His mouth hung open and then he bit his lip. Hedwig, it seemed, was having trouble flying because of her belly. Normally, the bird's tummy was sort of tucked in, slender and aerodynamic. But Hedwig's was pooching out.

"Uh, Harry?" Ron said. He didn't quite know how to break this to his friend. He didn't want to insult Hedwig, and he knew from experience that females of any persuasion didn't take kindly to being called chubby. The redhead was fairly sure that Hedwig couldn't spell, though, so he decided to play it safe.

"Look, I hate to tell you this, but your O-W-L is looking pretty F-A-T, mate."

Hermione was nodding in agreement. But Hedwig, who could not only spell "owl" but "fat" too, was extremely upset by the comment. Her beak quivered; she nipped at Ron and then made a loud noise that sounded almost like weeping. And then she attempted to flutter away, only to find, to her extreme disgust, that she was having serious take-off problems. For the past week she'd felt herself getting bigger every day, but while flying had been getting harder, it hadn't been such an issue, at least until now. She'd come in this morning using only a downdraft from the Owlery, because she'd been worried about a take-off, but to fail at it, in front of the other owls, and her man-boy, _and_ her man-boy's inconsiderate twit of a friend, was too much.

Harry watched as his owl got about four feet in the air before coming to another clumsy, rough landing on the stone floor. "Oi!" Harry cried out in dismay, and leapt up off the bench to go after her. She was waddling away, still making that crying noise, but Harry didn't let her get very far. He stopped her and got down on all fours so he could lower one arm to the ground, and then encouraged her to get on. By this point they had the attention of half the Gryffindor table. He managed to stand up while holding Hedwig.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron said, feeling rather responsible for her current state. "I didn't know she could spell."

Harry waved him off. He was looking at the lump in Hedwig's belly, now.

"Harry, is she all right?" Hermione asked, standing up. The milk was dripping down her front, forgotten.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I'll take her out to see Hagrid. There's still some time before class. Come on, girl," he finished to Hedwig, who had thankfully stopped making that wailing noise, and navigated the both of them slowly out of the Hall.

They passed the Slytherin table on the way out, though, and Malfoy, having seen the spectacle Hedwig made, shouted out, "What the hell's wrong with your owl, Potter? That time of the month again?"

Hedwig's talons dug into Harry's arm slightly. Keeping her between him and the staff table, he glanced up, noticed Snape was occupied with spreading marmalade on his toast, and used his free hand to make an obscene gesture at Malfoy. Malfoy gasped.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter!" Snape called from the staff table.

Harry whirled around at him, albeit a bit slowly for Hedwig's sake. "What for?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "For whatever you just did to Malfoy."

"You can't prove I did anything!" Harry argued.

"Maybe not, but I believe Hogwarts has a rule somewhere about not urinating on yourself in public. Shoo," he finished, complete with a dismissive gesture.

Harry, puzzled, stared down at his own crotch, and his cheeks flushed when he realized he hadn't cleaned up the pumpkin juice Hedwig had spilled on him. Now extra annoyed, he had no choice but to walk away, muttering mutinously under his breath. Malfoy laughed like a loon, and his gang of cronies was quick to join him.

Harry did his best to ignore the cackling, and walked out of the Hall. "Come on, girl, let's go see Hagrid. Maybe he'll know what's wrong with you."

Hedwig hooted rather pathetically.

Harry stepped out of the entrance doors, padded across the green lawn, and hurried off to Hagrid's place. April had just begun, so heavy rains had left everything dazzling green and the sky an almost unreal shade of blue. It was lovely and cool outside. As he approached Hagrid's thatched roof cottage, the familiar steps looming large, the man himself opened the door with a bang and came out.

"Ah, Harry, how are ya?"

"Fine, Hagrid," Harry said with a grin. "Hedwig isn't feeling very well, though. She was flying terribly this morning – crash landed twice! Can you tell what's wrong with her?"

Hagrid held out his gigantic hand. Harry held his arm out very close so that Hedwig could step gingerly only to his palm.

"Hmm," Hagrid said, holding Hedwig close to his face and squinting at Harry's owl (who looked tiny by comparison). He drew back in surprise at the sight of her belly, and then laughed a great booming laugh that ruffled Hedwig's feathers. "Ooh, sorry there, darlin'," he said to her, and then looked at Harry. "So _this_ is wha' all the fuss is abou'! Ha ha ha!"

He leaned down to hand Hedwig back to Harry. The owl got onto his shoulder gratefully, and Harry faced the half-giant in wonder.

"Hagrid?" he probed, since Hagrid had that I-can't-believe-you-don't-know-what's-going-on-but-don't-worry-it's-good-news look on his face. (It was a very complicated look to pull off, but Hagrid made it look easy.)

"Harry," he beamed, "Yeh got yerself the beginnings of an owl family, ma boy."

Harry, startled, looked at Hagrid, then at Hedwig, then back at Hagrid again. "You mean she's…"

"A card-carryin' member o' the egg-layers club!" Hagrid roared with pleasure. "She's been full of eggs for about two weeks, I'd wager. It's on'y just now she's had flight problems, eh?"

"I – I think so," said Harry, a bit embarrassed that he wasn't sure.

"Well, tha's what happens, see? The eggs they start out tiny-like, and they grow and grow until the females nest. Gums up the works, though, they can't fly so good when the eggs get too big. Too heavy! Ah, I wouldn't be surprised to find she's buildin' a nest in the Owlery to prepare. O' course, she'll need some help from here on out, 'specially since there don't seem to be no father flyin' around."

Harry was struck dumb. He just stared at Hedwig for a moment, trying to take it in.

Hedwig was just as startled by this information as Harry. Sure, she'd been gathering straw and making a more comfortable bed for herself as she got bigger, but … did that count? She didn't know. Goodness, there were so many things to think about, now! She was going to build a proper nest. She was going to have owlets. She was going to have to stop watching her man-boy and start watching her eggs, whenever they decided to drop.

And she wouldn't be delivering post for a while, because she couldn't fly in this condition. How would she find food? How would she take care of herself, not to mention the babies? Would another owl be able to help her? She remembered mum telling her that dad was a big help during the egg-sit, but she hadn't seen her mate in weeks. He probably had no idea he was going to be a dad, and worse, there was probably no way to find him and tell him. The thought of going through this alone… She lurched into a panic. Her head spun.

Worse, when she next looked at Harry, he was grinning at her with pride and excitement. He seemed to have been inspired by Hagrid's enthusiasm. "Hedwig, did you hear that? You're going to be a mum. Isn't this exciting?"

Hedwig hooted in distress. This was too much, too fast. The head-spin had turned into a tummy-spin, and she blarped some rat remains onto Harry's sleeve.

Harry made a face.

"Ah," said Hagrid, "Yeah, that happens sometimes. Morning sickness."

TBC ...

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_REVIEWERS_, here be'est thy official notice. I am always happy to respond to reviews, even if it's just to say "thanks," but we're not supposed to do that in the actual stories anymore, so … if you review, MAKE SURE YOU'RE LOGGED IN. My RL is such that I cannot get to the review portion of this site often, so I get _all_ my review responding done by replying to e-mails that automatically get sent to me with your comments, but the service only does this if you're signed in.

Therefore, unless you are not interested in getting a response, DO NOT REVIEW ANONYMOUSLY. There is no guarantee I will see it.

In the spirit of this, I have one note to **Kiwi**. Kiwi, if you are reading this, please know that the last time you reviewed "Fizz," I know you typed your e-mail address, but it refused to show up in the box. I was never able to contact you. This was a serious bummer. If you have an account, please log in and review.

Have fun, everybody! Let me know what you think.

Kiki 8-D


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**, because I'm a dork and I forgot it: J.K. Rowling owns everybody and everything and everywhere in this story. I'm just playing with her toys. I'll put them back when I'm done. :D

Chapter 2: _In Which Several Individuals Get Laid_

A few days later, Hermione came into the Gryffindor common room after an evening in the library, her wand tucked behind her left ear. She was loaded down with six Charms texts, a rubber chicken, a bottle of seltzer water, and an elaborately embroidered pillow. The common room was empty except for Harry and Ron, who noticed her entrance but wisely refrained from asking. They'd learned long ago to just look up, raise an eyebrow or two, and look back down.

A fire crackled in the grate, making the shadows flicker; the room was comfortably quiet and warm. Ron was bent over a coffee table scratching out a History of Magic essay. Harry was curled in one of the squashy arm chairs, his own finished essay curled on top of a small pile of books on the floor nearby. He was nibbling his lower lip, quite intent on the last chapter of _What to Expect When Your Owl's Expecting_. Hedwig was perched heavily on his shoulder, glancing curiously at the words. Harry was petted her absently with one hand; the firelight danced on her feathers and expansive, fluffy belly.

"She's looking beautiful, Harry," Hermione said, peeking over her teetering pile of stuff. "When will she be laying, do you think?"

"Pretty soon," he answered wearily, not looking up. "She's not even trying to fly anymore. That's the first sign."

"What's the second, again?"

"Hermione."

"Sorry. I'll just go put this stuff away. Oh, this is so exciting!"

Harry waited until she'd gone to rub his temple.

It had been four days since Harry had taken Hedwig to see Hagrid, and three days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-five minutes since he'd shared the information with Hermione and Ron. Hermione had been glowing with excitement (and brimming with questions) ever since. Ron was determined to be indifferent about the whole thing. So Harry had been caught between a very cheerful girl who probably would have thrown Hedwig an owlet shower if given the opportunity, and a very sullen boy prone to tossing out remarks like …

"Psssh. Owls laying eggs. Who cares? They're just birds."

(Although to Ron's credit, he never said that kind of thing when Hedwig was around.)

Harry was very tired.

It didn't help that he had nearly given himself eyestrain reading about magical owl reproduction in his non-existent spare time. From the moment he learned that Hedwig was going to be a mum, he wanted to be involved, and ready for anything. The protective impulse had been startling in its power at first, but he went with it, and now it had come down to something approaching a normal level. He knew, of course, that there was only so much he could help an owl, but he wanted to do right by Hedwig. She had always done right by him, after all.

So after talking to Hagrid and sharing the good news with his friends, his first order of business was to hit the library and check out everything relevant. He was going to do this research himself, instead of suggesting that Hermione do it, because it was just that important. And he'd learned some very interesting things along the way, among them the "what," "when," "where," "who," and "how" of magical owlets.

What Harry couldn't quite figure out was the "why."

"You know, I'm happy for her," he said aloud. Ron looked up. "I just don't understand why she chose _now_ to let it happen."

"What?" Ron asked. He'd stopped mid-sentence writing about a Troll-Giant skirmish in the 1600s and was now completely confused. "Who?"

"Sorry." Harry laughed. "I was just wondering why Hedwig suddenly got in a family way. You know, she's a carrier owl, and she's very proud of it. She'd be loath to take off from work and watch a clutch of eggs, don't you think?"

Ron was grinning. "Harry, erm, Hedwig didn't 'decide' to get pregnant, mate, it doesn't work like that. Owls aren't like wizards, they don't have options. The right bloke caught her at the right time, is all. Besides, even if she didn't ask for it, she looks fairly happy. And anyway, she _is_ the right age."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Did I miss anything?" Hermione called, coming down the stairs in a night dress and dressing gown, with a few books. She looked ready to settle down and read in the common room.

"No," Ron and Harry said together.

The clock began to chime 10. Curfew was coming up; Harry had to get Hedwig up to her nest and himself back to the tower before anybody cornered him. He yawned and stood up. Hedwig wobbled a bit on his shoulder.

"All right, girl, let's get you to the Owlery."

This would probably be the night. Hedwig was starting to fluff her feathers and breathe a bit faster, a definite sign that she would be laying within a few hours. Harry carefully clambered out of the portrait hole and made his way down the hall to the stairs leading to the Owlery. He was looking forward to seeing Hedwig into the nest she'd made for herself and returning in the morning to find a proud mamma sitting on a clutch of eggs.

He was also planning on a very busy two weeks. Hedwig would be out of commission doing egg-sitting duty for a fortnight (as opposed to the month-long incubation of normal owls), and Harry was planning on visiting three times a day with food for her, since he didn't figure the mate was going to show up and do it. Harry also wasn't counting on the fellow showing up when the young were born. That was the one part of this equation that bothered him – the father owl was supposed to be a major part of the magical owl family dynamic. Without him, tremendous pressure was placed on the mother, who had to leave the chicks alone, hunt for food, and try to protect the nest all by herself. Hedwig was lucky she had human support, he decided. It would be crazy for her if she were left to her own devices with no back-up.

"Okay, Hedwig, here we are," he murmured.

They had reached the Owlery. Harry climbed up a ladder he'd set up near Hedwig's alcove and nudged his shoulder toward the wall. Hedwig gingerly climbed off his arm and fluffed herself up in the nest. The moonlight was shining brightly through the window.

"I hope you're feeling all right in there," he said to her. "I'll be back in the morning."

Hedwig hooted at him and shivered. That was the most curious thing he'd learned, he mused, as he climbed back down the ladder. Magical owls guided their nesting practices not only by location, but by feeling. The birds only laid their eggs where they felt comfortable and safe.

The last bit of Hedwig he saw was her tail and talons, as she kicked out some random bits of fluff from the nest before sitting down again.

* * *

Just after one in the morning, Harry was still wide awake. He was very annoyed with himself, because he kept wondering about what was happening in the Owlery instead of going to sleep, like a sensible person. He glanced out the open window. The night air was refreshing and cool, and the half moon was very bright in the darkness. He lazily turned his head; Ron was snoring in the bed next to him. He sighed and pulled out his Transfiguration book from the nightstand and turned to the chapter on Dual Hybridized Metatransformations, whatever the hell that was, figuring that the details would overwhelm him and he could read himself to sleep.

He ignored the first hoot. The second one was much too loud to block out, though, and he looked up just in time to see a white blur come gliding in through the window, using absolutely no wing-power and floating completely on the downdraft. Hedwig flumped onto his duvet cover, shook off the miserable landing and padded toward him delicately with a soft hoot.

Harry blinked and put down his book. "Hedwig?"

He was sure, for a moment at least, that he was hallucinating. What was she doing here? She was supposed to be in the Owlery, getting on with things. All the books said she would be getting comfortable in a nest at this point, not on a human's bed.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked her in alarm. She hooted again.

"Go 'way, mum," Ron said into his pillow. Harry leaned over and smacked him on the arm.

"Wassa?"

"Ron, get up. Something's wrong."

That got Ron's attention. He opened his eyes blearily, sat up with mussed hair and took in Hedwig, who had maneuvered herself very close to Harry. Harry was turning up his bed lamp and sitting up, crossing his legs under the covers and making a sort of blanket boat in his lap. He settled Hedwig there to keep her from going anywhere. She didn't look to be fighting him. Instead, she hooted again and shook violently. Seamus woke up at the noise, as did Neville. Dean growled something that sounded like "Bleah!" and rolled over.

"What's she doing?" Ron asked, genuinely curious. He got out of bed and stood at Harry's side.

"I don't know," Harry said, feeling, not for the first time, quite out of his depth. He didn't know what else to do besides sit there and pet her and see what happened.

And that's when it happened. Harry stiffened in surprise and looked down at his lap, full of warm, vibrating, hooting owl, and felt … dampness. And weight.

"Oh, gross, I think she crapped on me," Harry muttered. Ron laughed, trying to keep it quiet.

But then Hedwig shook again, and there was another weight, and more dampness, and Harry's eyes got very big as it dawned on him what was happening.

"Harry, what is it?"

"Ron, go get Hermione. Now."

"Why?"

"Hedwig just dropped two eggs in my lap," he said, stunned. "She's laying right now, right here. Hermione might still be in the common room. Hurry!"

Ron, too surprised to do anything but obey, took off. Luck was with him; he came back a moment later with Hermione, pulling her along by the hand. She looked slightly put out, as it seemed Ron had just dragged her up to the boy's dorm without bothering to explain, and she was in the middle of a hair experiment. She'd been attempting to tame her hair into two braids, but she only had half her head done. The other side was bushing out wildly.

"Ron, what on earth …? Oh, Harry! Is she …?"

Harry nodded. Another very warm, wet, heavy object plopped into his lap. He made a face. And then egg number four landed. Harry looked skyward in resignation. It seemed, though, that Hedwig was taking a little break. She hooted. Harry absently smoothed down a few of her head feathers and looked at his friends. By this point Seamus, Neville and Dean, who had been woken by Hedwig's hooting and Hermione's voice, had clambered over to see what all the fuss was about. Everybody was standing around his bed.

"Sorry to wake you all," he said to the assembled crowd.

"'S all right," Seamus said from behind Neville. He was knuckling one eye. "More interestin' than sleepin,' I suppose. What's she doin'?"

"Laying," Neville tossed over his shoulder. "Harry, why is she here? I thought you took her up to the Owlery."

"I did. She flew down. Well, she glided, really, she's not up to flying …"

Neville let out a low whistle. "That's something special, Harry. And very nice."

Harry raised an eyebrow. His owl was pressing down on his major leg nerves, pinching him slightly with her talons. He couldn't feel his shins and feet anymore and the warm, slimy mucus from the eggs was seeping through his covers and pajama bottoms. It was not nice at all. In fact, it was pretty disgusting.

"Yeah, it's great," he said. Something of his true opinion must have shown through in his tone, because everybody laughed.

"Seriously, Harry, you're very lucky," Hermione said knowledgeably, and Neville nodded. "Hedwig feels safe with you – that's why she came down instead of laying her eggs in the Owlery. It's a real honor to have such a magnificent animal feel that way about you. You two must have built up a terrific bond over the years."

Harry hadn't really considered this. Hedwig hooted again and another slimy egg plopped into his lap.

"Urgh," Harry mumbled. "Well, girl, go on. I'm honored."

It took ten more hooting-filled minutes for Hedwig to drop the last of her eggs, with Ron, of all people, cheering her on. Hermione severed a large bit of Harry's duvet cover and draped it over Hedwig to keep her warm. Considering what was happening to the portion of the covers over his lap, Harry couldn't find the heart to complain about this.

Besides, it seemed that Hedwig, the lady of the hour, was finally finished. She hooted once in exhaustion and knocked her white head against Harry's chest, beak first. The warm, breathing, feathered weight successfully kicked loose the whole gross-out factor, and Harry began to pet her.

"Good job, girl," he said softly.

Ron praised Hedwig like she'd just run a marathon. Harry was amused.

"She's 'just a bird,' though, right? Laying eggs is no big deal?"

"Stuff it, you," Ron quipped, and reached out to stroke Hedwig's head. "Good girl, Hedwig. Very good girl."

Neville, Dean, and Seamus all looked satisfied with the outcome, if a bit sleepy. Hermione beamed and a tear ran down her cheek. She reached into her dressing gown pocket for a tissue, and gave herself away with a half-cough; Neville threw his arm around her. Harry smiled at all of them. Sitting there with his owl tired beyond all reckoning and leaning on him, her clutch of eggs in his lap, he couldn't help feeling like a proud papa, even though he'd had nothing to do with it.

TBC …


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: _In Which Harry Discovers 'Hoo' Caused All This_

"How many eggs did she lay, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," said Harry. Since Hedwig looked too tired to cause much trouble, Harry took the opportunity to lift her up a little and have a peek at the damage. "Two, four, six, seven," he counted.

Everyone else leaned in to have a look, too. All of the eggs were approximately the same size and shape. Six were snowy white, but the seventh one was very different – it was a brown and gold speckled with white spots. Harry had very little time to examine the eggs (or wonder about that last one) before Hedwig flailed her legs a little bit and flapped, a signal that she wanted down, immediately. He complied, and she settled herself comfortably on top of the eggs.

Harry scratched his head. "You know, I'm glad Hedwig took care of this, but she can't exactly stay here."

"Oh, I'll take care of that," Hermione said. With a wave of her wand, she conjured a tall metal stand with spindly wrought-iron legs and a bowl on top, and then conjured straw to pad the bottom and sides of the bowl. Harry watched as she neatly severed the blankets around his lap and then levitated the whole bundle, with Hedwig on top, over to the makeshift nest. Hedwig hooted gently at everybody and fluffed herself over her charges.

Harry held up his bed covers, which now had a jagged square hole in them big enough to frame him like a portrait, and huffed in annoyance. Everybody else just laughed. At least the hard part was over.

---888---

The next morning, Harry had no ears for the conversation at breakfast. He was buried in an owl book, reading up on the chapter about egg-laying practices and patterns.

"Harry!" Hermione said loudly, finally waking him from his trance.

Harry started. "What?"

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"I did, actually," he said, marking his spot with a finger. "I figured out what Hedwig might be looking at for babies."

That got Hermione's attention, as well as Ron's. Neville, who was sitting nearby, looked over, too.

"Do tell," Hermione said.

"All right. Well, according to this, every odd-numbered egg an owl lays is a dud, so four of Hedwig's are out of the running, which means she has three viable ones. Judging from the color layout, the owlets are either going to be three females, or two females and a male, and …" Harry checked his book again. "… One of them, the speckled one, probably, is going to look like the father. The weird speckled egg we saw corresponds to his feather pattern."

"So wait a minute. That means Hedwig definitely didn't mate with another snowy owl, then?" Ron asked.

"That's right," said Harry. "Of course, now the question is, what exactly _did_ she mate with?"

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to reply, the gong sounded for the end of breakfast, and everybody got up to leave. Harry stuffed his owl book in his alarmingly full bag and took off for class. And for the next couple of hours, all thoughts of owls got pushed out of his mind to make room for Transfiguration.

Hermione and Ron didn't see him at the beginning of lunch. He ran in a little late and out of breath.

"Had to feed Hedwig," he explained as he stepped over the bench, snagged a ham sandwich off a nearby platter, and sat down. "It's going to be crazy making sure she gets fed on top of everything else. I can't believe I only remembered her just now; I don't think she got breakfast." He sighed. "This is going take some doing."

The reaction from his friends was predictable and immediate. Hermione immediately offered to take care of Hedwig getting lunch. Ron, nettled by her offer and determined to be as good a friend as she was, offered to do dinner. That just left breakfast, which Harry insisted he could handle. It was first thing in the morning after all, and the day couldn't possibly get hectic fast enough for him to forget that.

"Thanks, you two. I'm glad we have a plan, now – at least until the father shows."

"Pardon?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, what's this guff about the dad coming round?" Ron said. "He probably doesn't even know about Hedwig's condition. Otherwise, he'd be here. Right?"

"Yeah, well …" Harry hedged. "It would be more research, but I was thinking of maybe … tracking him down."

Ron groaned. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Harry, please. You've done your bit for Hedwig. We'll all help out until the chicks are born. You really should let this thing go."

"But …"

"Ah ah," Hermione interrupted, holding up a hand. "Come on now, think. She laid her eggs, and here you are, _still_ helping out." ("Above and beyond the call, mate," Ron threw in.) "Honestly, this owl project of yours is starting to sound more like homework avoidance than honest concern."

Harry stiffened. "Excuse me? Look, I just want to make sure that things go the way they're supposed to in nature. I've never had a pet before, much less a pregnant one, thank you very much. I've been thinking about Hedwig's fellow and well, everything I've read says that owl families are supposed to stick together. It's good for the mum, and it's good for the chicks. I think if I find him, and you know, we bring them together, things will just be easier on everybody."

"You know, he's got a point," said Ron. "If things go well, we might even have a Joining and everything."

Harry and Hermione blinked at him, united in puzzlement.

"What?" Ron said.

"What's a Joining?" Harry asked.

"Oh, it's just a ceremony," Ron tossed off. "No big deal, really." He failed to notice the surprised looks Harry and Hermione were giving him. "See … well … okay. You know that magical owls mate for life, right?" Harry, having read this fact over and over in his owl books, nodded. "Well, when two owls mate and produce their first bunch of eggs, they send out a rep from the RCMC to perform an Owl Joining. Some ministry worker comes out to the house and waves a wand, recognizes the owls as a mating pair, notes the names of the chicks, and then when the chicks get big enough, they're sent off to the ministry for training as carrier owls."

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron with their mouths open.

"How do you know all that?" Hermione queried.

"Cos when I was about six, they had one for Errol and some barn owl he'd taken up with."

Harry, still shocked at what Ron knew, nonetheless smiled at his choice of phrase. He couldn't imagine the elderly Weasley owl getting involved with a female – even though he had definitely been a younger owl at the time.

Ron continued. "They had one chick – a little screeching fluffball with wings. It was kind of cute. I think Dad named it Flippy, or something stupid like that. Anyway, the ministry bloke came out, and we did the thing right out on the back porch at sunset. It was pretty nice, actually."

Harry blinked several times. A representative from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures coming all the way out to the Burrow to mark a mating ritual sounded like serious business. And an Owl Joining seemed almost like a wedding from Ron's description. Harry knew right away he wanted to make sure Hedwig got one of those – which meant that he had to devote any spare time he had to finding out the identity of her mate … preferably before those chicks hatched.

The race to locate Mr. Hedwig was on.

---888---

Five days into Hedwig's two-week incubation, Harry's further research had left him with only one shaky fact to go on: the speckled egg was absolutely no help. All it meant was that the father had distinctive browny-golden coloring with white spots. He could be any sort of owl, really – Spotted, Barn, Burrowing, Pygmy – really anything except perhaps a Snowy. So Harry was no longer counting on the egg to make an ID.

That left idea number two: owl dating. One thing Harry had figured out from his limited forays into human dating was that it took more than one meeting to get a little action. By that logic, if Hedwig had gotten involved with a male owl, it would be a repeat thing. He figured that if he could find out just who Hedwig had crossed paths with, then that would be his best bet of finding the father. Of course, running the idea by someone with owl experience made the most sense.

It was around four o'clock on a Thursday when Harry realized where he could get some inside help. So he took down some Floo powder from the mantel in the Gryffindor common room, stuck his head in the green fire and asked for the Ministry of Magic.

The receptionist was rather surprised to see him.

"Yah!" she shrieked, and dropped a giant stack of parchments on the floor. It spilled everywhere. Harry winced.

"Um … can you help me?" he asked after a minute, when it seemed safe that she would answer him.

"Oh, yes," she said, gathering her wits and her files. "Sorry, you startled me, Mr. Potter. How may I direct your call?"

"Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, please," he said.

"Certainly. I'll transfer you. Hang on," she said, and waved her wand.

Harry shut his eyes against the tumbling and turning and tried to get his bearings as his head appeared in another hearth. This one smelled vaguely like disinfectant, and the air felt unnaturally breezy, like someone had an AC going. It looked like a regular, boring office space, but Harry considered that a main routing area didn't need to look like much. A skinny wizard in brown robes glanced over at the hearth, not really seeing a face from this distance, just a disturbance in his day.

"Yeah?" he said carelessly.

"Um, I need to be routed to the Beast Division."

"Hold on."

A wand wave and another tumble later, Harry opened his eyes and saw a rather riotous office around him. There was a commotion going on two cubicles down involving a brightly colored bird and some desperate handler, and something else was scratching on the office door, whining to be let in. Now this was more like what Harry expected of a Ministry office – noise, cheer, and generalized insanity. The whole place smelled like dust and animals and it was clear that there was more than one office pet around here. A muttering wizard wandered by with a cage full of hissing salamanders, not even noticing Harry, but an elderly Kneazle stalked right over to Harry's head, "mrrrowed" at him, and began to lick his face. Harry scrunched up his nose and shut his eyes.

"Oi!" he said. "Gerroff. Go on with you."

His words caught the attention of a rather frazzled witch with wild blonde hair, who walked over and tsked at the Kneazle before picking it up and cuddling it to her chest.

"Killer, you annoying somebody again?" And then she saw the face in the fire. "Great Goblins, it's Harry Potter!"

Harry's hair was going in every direction from his recent Floo trips. His glasses were lightly covered in dust and his face was moist with Kneazle spit. He blinked at her. "Hello," he said. "Can you transfer me to the Owl Office?"

"Of course," she said kindly. "Hang on, lad. An honor to meet you, by the way."

Harry just managed a polite nod before he was off on one final trip. He announced his arrival by coughing and gagging on the chimney smoke. Clearly, people did not get down to the Owl Office much. The place was small and cramped, littered with equal parts parchments and bird droppings. A few owls swooped out. Harry tried to wave his hands in front of his face, only to realize that his hands were back at Hogwarts, and settled instead for shaking his head vigorously and spitting once into the hearth.

"Hello, whoooo's this?" said a rather portly wizard who waddled over. He looked remarkably like an owl himself, with his thick glasses and wise, gentle expression. Harry caught the name on tag – Bernie Barnall.

Harry started to say hello, but the man interrupted. "Get it? Whoooo's this? It's a … it's a joke."

Harry sighed. "That's very good, Mr. Barnall. I um, I have an owl situation. I was wondering if this office could help me with it."

The wizard, apparently forgetting Harry was supposed to find him funny, snapped into professional mode almost at once.

"Yes, of course! What can I do for you, young man?"

He didn't seem to recognize Harry. Harry figured it was because he was covered with so much soot, which was just as well. He launched into his tale, explained that his snowy owl was sitting on a clutch of eggs that would be hatching very soon, and he wanted to track down her flight paths and see who she regularly met, to try and determine who the father was, so the pair could be united.

"I'd really like to try for her, sir," he finished quietly. "It's just an idea, I don't even know if it could work. Is it a lot of work to find something like that out?"

The wizard smiled at him. "My boy, you have come to the right place. The Owl Office, we all call it the "oo" by the way, was created purely for serving the needs of magical owls. We keep track of their whereabouts, their health, and their progeny. You're correct, by the way. Flight-patterns give us lots of information – they should tell us what we want to know. Come on through and we can start cross-referencing. What's the female's name, then?"

Harry bit his lip. "Her name is Hedwig. And I'm sorry, but I can't come through, Mr. Barnall. I'm at school, and we're not supposed to leave."

"Ooh, you're at Hogwarts, then?" he said, moving over to a gigantic filing cabinet and opening a drawer.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, don't worry. You can stay there. I was just being friendly."

Harry smiled and watched as Bernie pulled out an alarmingly large roll of parchments, looked at the name next to "Hedwig" on the top, and stiffened in surprise. "I think we'll go back about 3 months. That should be sufficient to pick up any patterns. May I ask your name, then?"

Harry blushed clear through the soot. This kind of anonymity was very tempting to keep.

"I just need it to verify that Hedwig is really yours," the wizard said gently.

Harry sighed. "Harry Potter."

Bernie, as expected, came over to the hearth for a closer look. He was a bit calmer about this than the receptionist, fortunately. "My goodness, you really are. Well, Mr. Potter, I'll get started looking at this right away. But I assume you have studies to attend to, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"Then you should get back to them. This search shouldn't take me more than an hour. Call back at …" he turned and looked at the clock on the wall, appropriately shaped like an owl with large eyes that moved from side to side as the seconds ticked by. "Oh, say, five o'clock. Just ask for me by name – that will save you being routed through the whole network again."

"Thank you, Mr. Barnall," Harry said.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," the wizard said politely.

Harry pulled out of the fireplace, looking distinctly the worse for wear from the neck up, and coughed. He ignored his aching knees and stood up, only to see Hermione looking at him with crossed arms.

"Harry, what were you doing?"

"Chasing a lead," he said, and stood up. "The Owl Office at the Ministry might just help solve this mystery. Scuse me, I've got to wash up."

Hermione watched him go with a little sigh. But at five o'clock, she and Ron were both present out of curiosity, when Harry pulled back out of the floo, his face again covered in soot, holding two large sheets of parchment. He stared at both of them, nearly white under the dusting of ash.

"Harry?" Hermione stepped over in concern. "What's the matter?"

Harry coughed, and then found his feet again. "Well, Mr. Barnall, he's the Owl Office person, did his search, you know, cross-referencing Hedwig's flight patterns against all other magical owls for the past three months."

"And?" said Ron.

"He found a match, or something pretty close."

Harry spread out the first parchment across the coffee table. Hermione and Ron looked on with interest. The top of the parchment read:

_Owl Type – Snowy (Bubo scandiacus) _

_Owl Name – Hedwig_

_Owl Owner – Harry James Potter, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

The rest of it was taken up with a complicated web of arrows, with "stop spots" notated all over the place. Each "stop spot" had a date and time. The earliest went back about three months. The latest one, _Gryffindor Tower_, was dated from five days ago to the present.

"This, as you can see, is a summary chart of Hedwig's flight patterns over the past three months," Harry said. His friends nodded.

"And _this_ …" here he took out a sheet of parchment that had been charmed transparent, "… is the chart of Mr. Barnall's hit."

He laid the transparent parchment over Hedwig's and Hermione gasped. The owl clearly had different flight patterns from Hedwig, but the number of "stop spots" that were the same was quite alarming.

"He's thinking, and I agree, that this is probably the father of Hedwig's owlets. Besides, after remembering what he looks like, his coloring would definitely let him contribute a speckled egg."

"Wow," said Ron.

"Hold up, this owl has a name?" Hermione asked in interest.

"Oh yeah," Harry said, his voice going a little shaky. He turned up the top edge of the parchment, and his friends leaned in closer to have a look. In a neat, flourishing script, the information read:

_Owl Type – Western Screech (Megascops kennicottii)_

_Owl Name – Hermes_

_Owl Owner – Percy Ignatius Weasley, Ministry for Magic_.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: _In Which Hermes Arrives With a Letter … And a Cold_

Silence reigned for a few tense seconds. Hermione was blinking at the paper in disbelief. Ron was struck dumb too … but not for long. "I don't believe this. _Percy's bleedin' owl_ banged Hedwig up!" he shouted.

"We don't know that for sure," Hermione interjected, almost on automatic pilot.

Ron scoffed. "Hermione, look at all the connections. It has to be him."

"Well, Hermione's right, we don't know for sure," Harry said. "I'll have to figure out a way to get Hermes here to see if he really is the father."

Ron nodded at this, thinking it a rather sage idea. "But, Harry, how are you going to do that? I mean, Percy hates you, and he's a right bastard so I figure the feeling is mutual …"

Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"… But how are you going to get Hermes to come?"

Harry took this in for a moment. "Well, I was thinking that actually you could help me."

That got Ron's attention, but not in a positive way. Up to this point, he was more interested in how Harry would deal with this situation, emphasis on _Harry_, and he could gleefully watch from the sidelines as his elder brother had to deal with what his owl had done, if his owl had indeed done anything. Ron raised a suspicious eyebrow at his friend.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Write him a letter. Percy uses Hermes for personal correspondence. Pull the worried-little-brother act. Feed his ego. Ask for advice. Hell, he doesn't need much urging to give it," Harry pointed out, when Ron produced a rather overdone sigh somewhere between a growl and a moan. "Remember that letter he sent you last year, telling you I was mad, and to stay away from me, and all that?"

"I ripped it up," Ron answered.

"Of course you did," Harry said patiently. "But my point is that he sent it. Unasked for. Just imagine what he'll do if he thinks you're in some kind of awkward teenage trouble that only _he_ can help you with." That at least took the about-to-object look off Ron's face. "Come on, you know you want to do it. If Hermes isn't the father, then at least we'll know. And if he _is_, just imagine how flipping annoyed Percy's going to be."

Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked at Harry. Hermione looked back and forth between them, interested despite herself. Ron got all the way up in Harry's face and squinted at him, again looking unsure.

"Are you really Harry Potter in there?" he asked finally.

Harry shoved him and laughed. "Yes. Come on, get your quill out. Do you have parchment, or do you need some?"

"Nah, I'm all right," Ron said. He started digging around in his bag.

"Well, looks like you two have this under control," Hermione said, gathering up some books and writing supplies. "I'm off to the library."

They waved her goodbye and got to work on the letter.

---888---

It was a bit of genius, really, Harry thought. The letter was perfect. Ron had decided he was having a spot of bother with Hermione – which wasn't far off from the mark these days – and desperately needed Percy's advice on what to do next. A school owl was out the window with it in under an hour. And the next morning at breakfast, while everyone was halfway through their bangers and mash, Hermes came soaring through an upper window with the rest of the owls. A rolled-up parchment was tied neatly to his leg.

"Hey, there he is," said Harry, who was watching the owls fly in and had successfully slopped some food on himself in his distraction. "Hermes! This way!" he called, dropping his fork with a clatter, and whistled to catch the bird's attention. Hermes heard him and fluttered down to land in front of Ron, who was sitting next to Harry.

It took Ron a minute to untie the letter, but while he was untying it, Harry held his arm out for the owl to step onto. Hermes looked at him cautiously and blinked his large, glittering eyes.

"Come on," Harry wheedled, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a bird. "Please, Hermes, it's really important. I've got to take you to see someone."

Hermes stared at him for a good long moment, as though sizing him up, and even fluffed his brown-and-gold speckled feathers, but finally acquiesced and stepped carefully onto Harry's forearm. Now seeing the owl from up-close, Harry was a little alarmed. Hermes didn't look so well. In fact, he looked like he'd been sick recently. He wasn't quite as plump as an owl ought to be, and his movements were a little too gingerly, like he wasn't very sure of his footing. It took some effort for Harry to force the thought from his mind and straighten out his arm. Hermes dutifully sidestepped along, talons squeezing gently with every movement, until he was sitting on Harry's shoulder.

"Thanks," he said quietly, and got up to go to the tower. Ron and Hermione followed him. Ron was still holding Percy's letter, which he hadn't even opened.

Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Ginny, who knew something about the situation from Ron, all looked at each other in confusion, then got up to follow.

--- 888 ---

Harry walked up the stairs to the tower with Hermes nestled comfortably on his shoulder, completely oblivious to the small crowd he had attracted. His friends and dorm mates were wandering along behind him, also curious to see what was going to happen. Halfway along the hallway to the Fat Lady, there was some crinkling of paper behind him, followed by a slight gasp. He turned.

Ron had just finished Percy's letter. "Harry, we might have a problem."

"Huh? What's the issue?"

"Well, first off, now I know why Hermes wasn't here from day one. He's been sick for a while, Percy wrote. Pipp's Influenza."

Harry didn't quite know how to react to that. He'd never come across that disease in his reading, but judging by the looks of dismay on Neville and Ginny's faces, it didn't sound good. He took a glance at Hermes, who made a sort of "hnyeh" noise at him.

"Bless you," Harry said to the owl. Then he turned to Ron. "Well, what's the problem? Is it contagious to humans? Are we all going to get sick?"

Neville sighed. "Harry, it's not about us."

"All right, look, we don't have much time before classes, and I want to see what Hermes does when we bring him to Hedwig. We'll talk about this later, all right?"

And with that, he turned to the Fat Lady, said, "Toffee éclairs," and hopped through the portrait hole, much to the dismay of three of his friends and the bewilderment of the others. They all crawled in after him.

Harry reached the sixth-year dormitory, and opened the door. Hedwig's reaction was everything he'd hoped for. She gave a screech of delight and Hermes, who, Harry noted with some amusement, was slightly smaller than she, took off from Harry's shoulder and flapped in a circle around her, crying out with equal enthusiasm. He alit on the edge of the nest and they hooted and peeped at each other, clacking beaks and making loud owl talk. Harry leaned in the doorjamb and smiled. Hermes was Hedwig's mate, no doubt about it, and he would be more than happy (if not duty bound) to share the responsibility of looking after the eggs and finding food for the both of them.

The doorway behind him wasn't empty for long. After a few seconds of watching the two owls alone, Hermione appeared behind him. He heard her approach and turned around, alarmed at the pensive, solemn expression on her face. She cocked her head in the direction of the common room, and Harry followed her.

When he got to the couch, which was quickly filling up with people, Hermione seemed to steel herself.

"Harry, sit down."

He found a space on the coffee table and sat. "What?"

Hermione shot Ron a look. "Go ahead, Ron."

Ron fiddled with his shirt collar for a bit, but then seemed to decide there was nothing for it, so he just jumped right in. "Percy wrote that Hermes has been battling Pipp's. That's a bird flu. The good thing about Pipp's is that it's curable, and Hermes just got a potion from the owl clinic a few days ago that took care of it. The bad thing about Pipp's is that it does a lot of damage. It makes adult owls sick like they've got a bad head cold. And it also digs in …" Ron was turning quite red. "_Down below_, if you get my meaning."

Harry did not get Ron's meaning. He shook his head. "You mean, like it gives them diarrhea or something –"

Ginny snorted with laughter, then immediately sobered up. "No, Harry. What Ron's trying to say is that if owls get this, it settles in the sex organs."

Ron went even redder.

Harry wasn't quite as squeamish as Ron, but he was still at sea. "Are you saying Hermes gave Hedwig Pipp's?"

"No," Hermione jumped in. "Adult owls give it to each other the old fashioned way – a sneeze, a cough, something like that. But if an owl that has Pipp's mates with another owl, the disease can get passed to the eggs. It targets them, in fact. Pipp's is way too much for developing owlets to deal with, so eggs that get infected by this flu … don't hatch." She said this so sadly and so gently that it almost hurt to listen to her.

Harry looked at her in a daze, not quite seeing her. "Ron?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Hermione, "When did Hermes get this flu?"

There was a long pause.

"Hard to tell, really," Ron said finally. "The contagious period starts before any symptoms show up. Percy said Hermes got sick two weeks ago, which would make it…" Ron ticked backwards on his fingers for a moment. "… About a week before we noticed Hedwig was expecting."

"And how long is the contagious period?"

"About a week."

Harry was busy trying to do the math in his head. Hagrid had said Hedwig had been about two weeks along the day Harry had noticed her bulging tummy and brought her to the groundskeeper, which meant that Hedwig had mated two weeks before ... which meant that Hermes had been contagious with an owlet-killing disease at about the same time as he mated with Hedwig. Harry had never felt one way or another about the use of the word "about" – until now. Now he loathed it.

"So," he said finally, "What you're all trying to tell me is that if these 'abouts' line up, then there won't be anything living in those eggs to hatch."

There were sober nods all around.

Harry leaned back in the chair and sighed, his eyes still far away. The ten-minute bell rang just then, startling everybody. The others moved to grab their books for class. Harry needed a prod from Hermione to get him going, but he eventually loped up the stairs to the dormitory.

When he got there, he saw Hermes and Hedwig looking cozy. Hedwig was fluffed over the eggs and Hermes was leaning on her, nuzzling her neck with the tufts of his ears. Their feathers were mingling in the middle. Hermes gave Hedwig a gentle nip and took flight. He soared out the open window in search of food. As the owl left, something clenched painfully in Harry's chest and he realized that he didn't know what he would do if Hedwig's eggs didn't make it. In spite of a lunatic school schedule and his insistence that "nature take its course" with the proceedings, he had somehow gotten … what was the word … invested. The chance that this whole thing could blow up in Hedwig's face (not to mention his own) didn't sit well.

He sighed. Whatever the eggs' fate, at least Hedwig and Hermes were happy together for now, and Harry wasn't about to deny them that. He grabbed his book bag and took off for class, his heart very achy and heavy, and cursed himself for getting involved in this mess in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: _In Which Owls Are Happy and Humans Are Not_

The next four days went by in dream-like peace for Hedwig and Hermes. Hedwig was happily egg-sitting, quite delighted to have someone around who could hunt, provide food, and even take a shift on the nest when she wanted to stretch her wings. Hermes was very proud of his mate, and happy to be around for this. Between Hedwig's rather large self taking up most of the nest space and Hermes' much smaller figure darting around, feeding her and swooping and out of the window as he chose, the two of them doting on one another made a comical, loving picture. Both of them were so involved in their coming family that any thought of delivering post had flitted straight out of their heads.

Harry frequently came up to the tower to watch them. Since learning of the possibility of Hermes' having accidentally killed the eggs, Harry had spent most of his free time alternating between considering the worst consequences, and trying to forget about them and think positively. The four days since the announcement had passed in a monstrous blur of activity.

The atmosphere in the sixth year boys' dorm was not helping. Things had been civil, if strained, for the first day of Hermes's stay. By day three, however, everything had gone to hell. Ron was muttering under his breath about the smell, Neville had taken to sleeping in the library, and Dean and Seamus were starting to get quite vocal about the owls. It wasn't as though Hedwig hadn't been there for a week on her own, but now, all of a sudden …

"The hooting is keeping me up at night," Dean said.

"Those owls are filthy and noisy, and they have to be moved. Period," Seamus announced with authority.

Harry had had about enough of this. "Look, Hedwig picked this place. I'm not moving her, at least not until the chicks hatch."

"Which might not happen," Neville put in. That earned him a glare.

"Put a sock in it, Thomas," Ron piped up. "Those owls are quiet as church mice compared to your snoring. And they're downright _hygienic_ compared to _you_, Finnegan."

Ron's comment was like a spark in a gunpowder factory. The fight was on. There was energetic shouting, drawn wands, some spectacular bangs, and in the end, Neville just managed to pry Ron off Dean before the two of them had to grab Seamus, who'd already managed to leave Harry with purple hair, two temporarily sightless eyes, and big blue spiders crawling all over him. Harry, aiming blindly, strung Seamus up by his ankle, made his nose temporarily disappear, and hit him with a jinx that made him babble angrily, at top-speed, in congested Punjabi. EVERYBODY turned on Harry and started shouting – even Seamus, who was completely incomprehensible, but got his point across anyway.

The spells were all canceled immediately, of course, but by day four, things had gotten completely out of hand. Dean and Seamus were sleeping in the common room in protest. Neville hadn't been spotted in the tower for 24 hours. (No one knew how he was keeping clean.) Harry and Ron had begun to spend more time in the dormitory, both to keep an eye on the owls, and to stay away from their dorm mates.

"Harry, this is nuts," Ron said, referring to the screech owl. Hedwig was asleep in the nest. Hermes had made himself comfortable at the foot of Harry's four-poster. "And Seamus was right – this place smells like a barn."

Harry sniffed the air in the dormitory. He couldn't smell anything – maybe he was just used to it. "_Bonolaris_," he muttered anyway, waving his wand in a circle. Immediately, the air felt a little fresher. "Happy?"

"You know that doesn't last," Ron said. He sounded tired, like he was complaining just to be difficult. "Harry, look, I'm glad Hermes showed up, but Percy is probably wondering what's happened to him by now. What are we going to tell him?"

Between finding out about Pipp's and actually determining that Hermes was Hedwig's mate, not to mention all the upheaval of the past few days, Harry had not given this any thought.

"Does he really need to know?" he asked honestly.

Ron shut his book and shot Harry a look that said Harry was being rather dim. "Erm, let's think. YES."

Harry sighed and balanced his open book on his head. He considered the ceiling for a moment. "Why don't we just … I dunno … send him a letter with a school owl explaining? I mean, Hermes won't take it. He's staying right here."

"Great idea," Ron said, going back to his book. "But _you're_ writing it."

Harry groaned. He would write to Percy. And then he would write to someone else who would know what to do when Percy got the news.

--- 888 ---

The next morning, Percy Weasley was seated rigidly at his impeccably neat desk at the Ministry, working on a memo. Mail had already been delivered to his sector for the morning, so he was surprised at the interruption of a Hogwarts owl, a medium-sized Barn. The creature landed gently, cocked its white, heart-shaped face at him, and stuck out its leg. Percy eyed it suspiciously. He hadn't seen Hermes in a few days. At least Ron had written back to him (obviously a thank you note for his advice was in order), but why he was using a school owl instead of Hermes was a mystery. He untied the letter from the owl's leg and shooed it away dismissively.

"You don't get a treat for being late," he informed the bird snippily.

The barn owl didn't appreciate Percy's attitude. It pooped on his desk and flew off.

Percy spared the dropping a disgusted glance before Vanishing it. He blew on the spot for extra measure, and then unrolled Ron's reply, adjusting his glasses on his nose so as to read it better.

_Dear Percy,_

_You will not be seeing Hermes for a while; he has family matters to which he must attend. Rest assured that he is happy, well-fed, and busy here at Hogwarts. Hope all is well at work. Give my regards to Minister Scrimegeour. _

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

--- 888 ---

Albus Dumbledore was most surprised at his visitor. The mid-morning sun shone in through the large windows, making the gold-weave on his day robes sparkle and the rims of his glasses twinkle. He gently laced his gnarled fingers together and smiled.

"Mr. Weasley, what an unexpected delight. Is there something I can do for you?"

"There certainly is, Headmaster," Percy fumed, and slapped Harry's letter down on the desk. "My personal mail carrier, Hermes, has been owl-napped by one of your students! I demand restitution! Barring that, of course, an explanation would be helpful."

"Indeed," Dumbledore mumbled, taking a close look at the letter. Then he smiled. Half the school knew what was going on with Hermes and Hedwig, and, with the possible exception of Harry, nobody had been more excited about it than Hagrid, who'd bent his ear on the subject a few times.

"Sit down, my boy. I'll explain."

Percy flumped straight down into a chair. He crossed his arms and stared at Dumbledore.

"Hermes, you see, has mated with Hedwig, Harry Potter's owl."

Percy's eyes went wide, and his face lost some color.

"Hedwig laid eggs, and if all goes according to plan, within the next day or two, we should see the results of their union. Hermes has been staying here, helping Hedwig, and when the young are born, he will take over the proper father role. He will be out of commission as a carrier for at least another month and a half, because he will be helping to care for his new family. Now, I understand that Hermes was ill at the time he mated with Hedwig. If, heaven forbid, he passed his illness on to the eggs, they will not hatch, and your owl is, erm, 'off the hook,' I believe is the expression. So really, at present, we have nothing to discuss, until the eggs either hatch, or go way past their date without doing so."

Percy was speechless, but only momentarily.

"This … this is ludicrous! Hermes knows he's supposed to stay away from Potter, and staying away from Potter includes staying away from Potter's _owl_. Oooh, when I get my hands on that feathery idiot, he'll wish he'd been born something else, I'll tell you that!"

Dumbledore was at the window, looking out. He had completely ignored Percy's tirade and wandered away. Birds were flitting around in the trees outside.

"Nature is such a marvelous thing, is it not?" he commented, when Percy had finished. "It is so exquisite and powerful. Would you like to know the single most important thing I have learned from nature, Mr. Weasley?"

Percy had the grace to purse his lips and nod in the affirmative.

"I have learned that love is love, and it perseveres, no matter that it goes against human wishes. Come."

Feeling a mite ashamed of his outburst, Percy followed Dumbledore out of his office. As they tromped down the familiar hallways to Gryffindor Tower, the bell rang for lunch. The doors opened and the corridors began to fill with the thunderous babble and footsteps of students. Everybody was making for the Great Hall and some food. The Defense classroom opened up and sixth years began to pour out. Dumbledore merely stopped and waited, barely moving even when Percy stumbled into him. The eldest Weasley dusted himself off, looking around to make sure no one saw. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all walked out as part of the crowd.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter, a moment of your time. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, you are welcome to join us."

"Us?" said Ron, as they all stepped clear of foot traffic.

And then he saw Percy. The disgust on his face was no match for the disgust on Percy's face when he saw Harry. Harry glared at Percy, and unconsciously began hunting in his robe pocket for his wand.

Hermione, fortunately, had observed all the posturing males around her and snapped them out of it. She blindly smacked to either side at once and caught both Harry and Ron on the arms.

"Not _here_," she hissed. "Come on, we'll go to the Tower."

"That is precisely where we were going, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, sounding like he was rather enjoying this.

He led the way. They all tromped up the stairs, through the common room, and into the dormitory, which Harry had constantly been spelling to keep the smell at bay. There was a little straw on the floor around Hedwig's nest, but other than that, the owls had made themselves an almost natural part of the tower room.

They only had to wait a few moments for Hermes to swoop in through the window, a dead rat in his beak. Hedwig took it from him and tucked in, swallowing the thing in one gulp. Percy gasped. Hermes turned, saw his wizard, gave a rather frightened hoot and flew up to land on top of Harry's canopy.

"Nice, Percy, you scared him," Harry said.

"He's not scared, he just has a guilty conscience," Percy snapped. "Isn't that right, you no-good, feather-brained rapscallion!" He shot this last bit at the quivering lump hanging down from Harry's canopy. "I told you to stay away from anything remotely related to that boy!"

"You leave him alone!" Hermione snarled.

"This is between me and Hermes, Granger. Get out of it!"

Hermione puffed herself up in a rather alarming imitation of Mrs. Weasley. Harry stepped between them before anything else could happen.

"Percy, what is it you want?"

"I want my owl back!"

"Well, that's not happening. In fact, he's going to be operating out of your mum's place for a while."

"W-What?" Percy was bordering on apoplectic. Any mention of his mum had that effect on him lately.

"You heard me," Harry continued, not realizing quite the gravity of what he was saying. "As soon as the chicks hatch, and they _will_," he said, more to bolster himself than anything else, "your mum has offered to take Hedwig, Hermes, and the owlets until the Joining ceremony. I wrote her just yesterday, explained what was happening, and she wrote back…" He pulled a letter out of his pocket and began to read aloud. "They will, of course, be staying here at the Burrow until the young ones are fledging. I will see Percy at the Joining, I expect. Until then, give him my love."

Percy lost it. "Her _love_? Please! That letter is a bunch of guff! I am the Deputy Minister for Magic, and I won't associate with blood traitors! I won't be at this stupid Joining, either! I've lost my personal owl to this nonsense! And you, you conniving little liar, you engineered this whole thing!" he shouted at Harry. Heaving with exertion, he breathed very hard into the shocked silence around him.

Harry blinked twice. "Yes, Percy, that's it," he deadpanned. "I thought to myself, 'Hmm. How can I arrange a permanent link with someone I despise? Ah yes, I have it. I'll let my owl boff his owl and see what happens.'"

Ron snorted. Hermione smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!"

Dumbledore, who up until this point had been silent in the dormitory, cleared his throat. He was over by nest, looking very intently at the straw beneath Hedwig. Twigs were cracking and moving, seemingly of their own volition, and Hedwig was fluffing herself and eyeing Dumbledore a tad suspiciously. Dumbledore slowly turned, and looked at the assembled students, present and former, and smiled.

"May I have your attention, everyone? It appears that, against all odds, we have some new arrivals."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: _In Which Children Are Born_

Hatching, as any mother bird will tell you, is an exhausting, lengthy process for chicks. When Dumbledore had first noticed the rustling, only one owlet had made it out, and although Hedwig liked the strange old fellow with the white beard very much, she was not convinced he had all his marbles. To prevent any possible harm to her babies, she stayed put and did not rise.

Dumbledore apparently read her thoughts, because he laughed and cleared everybody out of the room.

"Come now, everyone, we'll return after dinner. I believe everything will be finished by then and Hedwig will be ready to present her little ones for public viewing."

With no little grumbling, everybody else left for their last classes of the day. Harry was a bit jittery. Who knew how many eggs had made it? But he did as the headmaster bade and left, trailing behind him and Percy, who still looked rather upset. Dumbledore was wheedling with Percy, of all things, to skive off work for the day – stick around, use the library, perhaps stay for dinner.

Percy groused, "All right, fine, yes. I'll stay."

Everyone behind Percy shot each other looks of surprise. Harry suspected that Dumbledore had mind-controlled the young wizard for a second, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Hedwig waited through the long afternoon and early evening, feeling the warmth and scrabbling going on underneath her, rejoicing in the muffled peeping. It was seven o'clock. Dumbledore, his hand firmly on Percy's shoulder, tromped into the dormitory after Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus. Percy was still not in the best mood, but he had significantly calmed down from before – the time in the library and his full stomach probably helped.

"Hedwig looks pleased," Harry commented. "And look at Hermes."

Hermes was perched on Harry's bed, hooting excitedly. Hedwig took up the call, too. Recognizing this as some kind of personal signal, Harry stepped away from the group and went over to the nest. Hedwig hooted softly at her wizard and stood up proudly.

Harry gave everything a looking-over. The nest was full of bird poop and dropped feathers, broken eggshells, four white dud eggs, and drying slime. The chicks, about the size of golf balls and nearly as smooth except for their identical thin layers of grey downy feathers, were huddled together in the middle, chirping expressively. They were announcing their displeasure at the disappearance of their mum's fluffy warm underside.

They were here. They were here, and very alive, and all the nail-biting estimations and terrible possibilities hadn't mattered in the end. Harry smiled and watched for a few seconds while the tiny blind things flapped about in the mess of straw and muck. There were three of them, daughters all, now raising an impressive, harmonized fuss and opening their little beaks wide. The noise was piercing. The smell was incredible.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had not expected to be so overcome by the arrival of these three little birds, but his vision blurred anyway. He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve and just barely managed to convince everybody that he had teared up from the smell.

Hermione held her nose and joined him at the nest. She got a quick peek at the young before Hedwig sat down again. Upon seeing the little owlets, she let out a squeal of delight and clapped her hands.

"They. Are. So. Adorable. Oh, how precious. Oh, _Harry_!" she gushed, and hugged him, as though he had somehow helped to make them. Ron frowned at this. Then Hermione let go, startled from a sudden idea. "I need to get Colin. We need documentation. I'll be right back. Go on, everybody, have a look!" she said, shooing the assembled boys over to the nest.

And she was off, running out the door past a very amused headmaster and rather glum minister's assistant, to hunt down Colin Creevey and his magical camera.

The boys dutifully trooped over. Ron smiled. He invited Hermes to perch on his shoulder, where the screech owl stationed his feathery self and continued to hoot loudly in celebration. Harry was getting his shoulder slapped by a congratulatory Neville. Dean and Seamus looked curious and almost concessionary, which was a start. Percy held his temper in check, although he was standing there sullenly with his arms crossed and he was more glaring at Hedwig than looking at her. And Dumbledore stood behind them all, rising up on tiptoe every few seconds and waiting patiently for Hedwig to show off of her little ones again.

She didn't disappoint, and managed to time it so that everyone got a chance to "ooh" and "aah," Colin got some good shots, and the chicks were left in peace with a minimum of disturbance. Colin went off with a promise to develop the shots after shaking Harry's hand firmly. Harry went over and petted Hedwig; she leaned into his hand and hooted.

"Well, Harry, I believe it's time you contacted Mrs. Weasley," Dumbledore said at last. Percy stiffened at that. "Now that the babes have made it into the world safely, they need a safe place to grow. And as much I would like to say the Owlery is safe for owlets, well, you know, the height, the exposure, the aerial traffic … I could go on, but I suspect you get the point."

Harry looked at the headmaster a little beseechingly. He had just met his most faithful companion's pride and joy. He wasn't eager to give up this new company.

"And the nest can't stay here, I'm afraid," Dumbledore finished gently, as though reading Harry's thoughts. Dean and Seamus nodded fervently at this.

Harry nodded sadly. "I'll go down to the common room and Floo Mrs. Weasley straight away."

"I'll go with you mate," Ron said. He looked like he wanted to be away from Percy more than anything else; the older boy was looking angry at this repeated mention of his mum.

Hermes took flight off his shoulder and settled down to perch precariously on the side of the nest, to be nearer to Hedwig. He clacked beaks with her in an affectionate way. Percy groaned in disgust. It seemed that his personal owl was in this mess for the long haul. Dumbledore chuckled then, which made him feel even grumpier.

* * *

Down in the common room, Harry gingerly got down on his knees in front of the fireplace with a small sigh, and glumly accepted a handful of Floo powder from Ron. He really didn't want to be doing this, even though he knew it was the right thing to do and just having these thoughts was selfish of him. Hedwig and Hermes and the owlets would be much happier at the Weasley residence, and Mrs. Weasley would be able to keep an eye on them, but that didn't mean he wanted them gone.

"Oi, come on, Harry, stop dawdling and just throw," Ron cajoled. "And budge up there. I need to talk to mum, too. I need to know whether I'm going back for Easter Break or not."

This was Ron's way of tagging along for moral support, and Harry knew it, but to acknowledge it was to cheapen the action. Shaken out of his musings, Harry grunted in reply and made room for Ron beside him. They both stuck their heads into the hearth; Harry threw the powder, and shouted, "The Burrow!" When he opened his eyes, the horrible spinning sensation had nearly stopped and he and Ron were gazing into the messy, colorful sitting room at the Weasley house. Harry looked around, wondering where Mrs. Weasley was.

"Mum! You around?" Ron shouted at the top of his voice. Harry almost jumped out of his skin.

But presently there were footsteps and Mrs. Weasley wandered in, wiping down a china plate with a rag, as though hearing this was nothing unusual. She looked pleased to see both of their sooty faces in the fire, and sat down before the hearth to chat comfortably.

"Boys," she greeted them warmly, as she continued wiping the plate. "What's happened?" And then it dawned on her. "Oh, Harry! Did she have them?" she asked excitedly.

"Three girls," Harry said, grinning, unable to contain his own excitement, or his pride. He gave Mrs. Weasley a second to react to this, and she nearly copied Hermione, which made both boys laugh. "Mrs. Weasley, you've got to see them. They're amazing."

"Well, I suspect I'll be seeing plenty of them in the coming weeks," Mrs. Weasley said, finishing her dish. "Now don't you worry about anything, dear, there's a lovely spot outside for the nest – we've got this fantastic old oak tree not five steps from the back door. The branches are wide and stable, and it's not too far off the ground, either, so that'll do it nicely. They'll be very well off – lots of mice and rats to hunt around here! And I'll check on them every day."

"Good," Harry said, and managed another smile, although this one was a little tenser. He still wasn't relishing the owls' departure.

Mrs. Weasley must have picked up on that tautness in his expression, because she took out a clean rag, wiped some soot off his face, and took his chin in her hand.

"Harry, look at me," she said, turning serious. "I'm honored to take them. And you will, of course, visit regularly, whether you just Floo-call and I bring them over to the hearth, or I take them to Hogwarts," she continued, her brisk tone belying a wealth of affection. "And we will, of course, be having a Joining ceremony. And you will, of course, be there." She ruffled his hair and patted his cheek.

Harry was stunned into silence, so she turned to Ron and wiped his face too, in spite of his protests. "Now, Ron, what's the bother? Haven't been making trouble, have you?" she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"N-No, Mum," he stammered. "Just saying hello, is all."

"Hmm. All right, then, keep your nose clean. We'll see you for Easter Break. Off with you, now. You too, Harry. Make sure to keep the connection clear – I'll be coming through in a minute." She gently shooed them out of the fire, and they broke the connection.

Harry and Ron pulled out of the fire. And it was right about then that Harry realized something very important. They'd forgotten to tell Mrs. Weasley that Percy was around. It was too late to say anything, though; Harry could only watch helplessly as Mrs. Weasley came straight through the fire and out into the common room, babbling about how excited she was. She took assistance from the boys in carrying her traveling supplies, and kept talking as she made her way to the stairs.

"I figure I'll take them home on the Express, and hire a car to get back to the Burrow," she said, as though continuing their conversation. "Those little ones shouldn't be subjected to the Floo, and neither should the parents."

"Mrs. Weasley, wait!" Harry said, trying to warn her, to stop her.

Too late. She made it up the stairs to the dormitory and stepped inside. Harry winced. The assembled all turned around at her arrival.

It was hard to say who was more surprised.

Mrs. Weasley dropped her purse. Percy backed into the headmaster. They stared at each other for long moments, each gauging the other as though determining where the lines were.

Very casually, everyone in the room began backing off in different directions, hoping against hope this wouldn't be too explosive. Percy was standing up taller, so he towered over his mother. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were crackling and narrowing in suspicion. Percy put his hand in his pocket, presumably going for his wand.

_Uh oh_, Harry thought, drawing his own just in case. _Here it comes._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: _In Which We Stand United_

It did not come. As it turned out, Percy had not been reaching for his wand. He had merely put his hand in his pocket to give the appearance of bored pomp, so as to better look down his nose at his mum. Mrs. Weasley, stone-faced and silent, was not giving any ground.

"Hello, mother," said Percy.

"Hello, Percy." Mrs. Weasley replied to him as though she were exchanging pleasantries with the butcher. Her voice was solid, formal, with none of its usual affection.

They may as well have been strangers. Harry quickly stashed his wand and stared at the floor. He would rather be anywhere than here, seeing this. This sort of thing happening between mothers and children … it wasn't right. The room was silent.

"Molly, how capital to see you!" The headmaster's cheerful interruption startled everybody. "How are you faring, my dear?"

"Fine, Albus," Mrs. Weasley said, hitching a smile on her face. "I just came for our new little family here. Ah, hello, Hermes!" she trilled, stepping over to Ron and helping Hermes to station himself on her shoulder. She stopped in front of the nest and began to dig around in her bag, pulling out a large padded blanket. "And there's our proud mother. How are you, love?" she inquired of Hedwig with some emotion.

Hedwig hooted happily and flapped her wings. She stood up briefly so Mrs. Weasley could see the owlets, and she made a fuss over them worthy of grandchildren. She bustled around happily for a few moments, and with Hermione's excited assistance got the nest and Hedwig onto the blanket and bundled it up gently in her arms. Harry and Ron closed up her two traveling bags, which rested for the moment on Neville's bed.

"Well, I'm off to the train station," she said, sticking her wand in her apron pocket. "Harry dear, I will be contacting you. Be good, all of you, all right?"

"Bye, Mrs. Weasley!" most of the room answered her. "Bye, Mum!" Ron said. They watched her go with the nest and the owls, bumping past her third-eldest son as though he were furniture.

Said son looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. His cheeks were burning and he wouldn't take his eyes off the floor. It was painfully clear to him who had come off better in this confrontation, who had won this battle.

"I can't stand it," Hermione said softly. "This stupid war is tearing everybody apart."

Harry was the only one who heard her. He nodded. The room was painfully quiet for a moment, until they heard something unexpected … a sigh from outside the door.

"Percy?"

It was Mrs. Weasley. The gathered boys and Hermione all looked a bit surprised. Percy, more startled than any of them, leaned out the doorway.

"Y-Yes?" he asked.

His mother was standing two steps below the landing, her arms full of owls. She took him in with exhausted eyes and said, "Will you help me with my bags?" She asked this tentatively, like she half expected him to say "no."

To everyone's great surprise, Percy, rather than pull up taller and say something idiotic, slumped a little at this request. He looked almost relieved, for some strange reason.

"Of course," he said, a little embarrassment peeking through the strained politeness. "Let me get them. I'll escort you to the train station."

Mrs. Weasley smiled then, just a little, and waited for her son to follow her. Things were far from fixed, but this was a very promising start.

* * *

It was Saturday. May had bloomed everywhere, bringing with it new sun and covering the hills and dales around Hogwarts with wildflowers of every color and long green grass perfect for downhill rolling competitions. Most of the students had taken the opportunity to get outside and go to Hogsmeade or play some pick-up Quidditch, or lounge about on the lawns with their homework rather than hole up in the library or the common rooms. The school was fairly empty and quiet as a result.

There was however one corner of the building that was ringing with noise and excitement – the headmaster's office.

"Ouch! Nimue, you naughty thing, stop that!" Harry scolded. "Circe, don't even _think_ about it."

Harry was off to one side of Dumbledore's desk, wearing his bottle green dress robes (neatly pressed the night before) and wrestling slightly with his precious burden. Hedwig's three daughters were bundled in his arms, facing out so they could watch the show. The little owlets were leaning against his best white dress shirt. Two of them were looking about with interest. But the one in the middle and the biggest of the three – a heavily banded snowy owl with striking brown eyes named Nimue – had decided that Harry's shirt would make an excellent breakfast. Her sister Circe, a screech owl like Hermes (who nonetheless had big golden eyes like Hedwig) was taking too much of an interest for Harry to ignore her.

Thessaly, the smallest owlet and the spitting image of Hedwig, nipped at her siblings and inclined her head – there was something happening at the front of the room, and besides, their mum was staring at them sharply from her perch on Harry's shoulder. They behaved themselves and left Harry's shirt alone.

None other than Bernie Barnall was waddling to the front of the room, a large dusty ledger under on arm and a quill tucked behind one ear. He winked at Harry as he passed. Harry smiled. On some level he couldn't believe he was here, and that this was really happening.

So much had changed since Mrs. Weasley had left with the chicks. True to her word, she'd had Harry stick his head in the fire on a weekly basis to see the progress of the owlets and keep in contact with Hedwig. The little birds had grown enormously – they were actually getting a little heavier the longer Harry stood with them. They were all flight ready. In fact, they had made their first tentative attempts last week. Soon they would be leaving the nest forever.

Looking around, it appeared that they were almost ready to start. The room was full of animated conversations. Dumbledore was in attendance, as was Hermione and a smattering of Weasleys – Ron, Ginny, their parents, and most surprisingly, Percy, standing next to his younger sister with Hermes on his shoulder. He looked the most relaxed Harry had ever seen him. This mellowness would have surprised Harry, if Harry hadn't had the goods on what had recently happened.

Ron had picked up some gossip from his dad about Percy not only escorting his mother to the station, but actually _taking the train_ with Mrs. Weasley all the way to her stop, rather than simply Apparating back to work. They'd talked the whole way. And then when Ron went home for Easter break, Fred and George had locked him in a broom closet "by mistake." Ron was really annoyed at them, but his awkward position in the closet let him listen in on the kitchen perfectly, and by happenstance he overheard the exact moment his pompous elder brother had broken down and apologized to his mum, tears and all.

Ron was reasonably good at being discrete, though. He hadn't told anybody but Harry.

"Ahem!" Bernie said, stopping most of the conversation. "We are ready to start, everybody. Gather round please, gather round. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, you two must come to the front with your owls."

Harry and Percy stepped forward. Bernie began to leaf through the ledger, stopping a few pages from the front, and adjusted his thick glasses.

While Bernie was distracted, Percy leaned down to Harry's ear. "Set on having this, Potter? It's permanent, I hope you realize. You're not just creating a bond between these birds. You're creating it between us – you and me, and by extension, my clan."

"What of it, Percy?" Harry murmured back. "I don't like you much, but Hedwig deserves to have a proper family. I know how hard she worked to make one. I know how much it means."

Harry held himself taut after this remark. He expected a snippy comeback, something along the lines of "Poor Harry Potter, trying to create what he never had himself," or something equally childish. But Percy, rather than attack, swung his eyes around to take in his mother and father and siblings. He looked back at Harry with a sudden illuminated look on his face, like he finally understood something he hadn't before.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I expect you do."

"All right, found it!" Bernie said. He cleared his throat and began to read. "In the name of the Ministry of Magic, I welcome all attendees to this Owl Joining, taking place on this most glorious third of May. We are here to honor the commitment of two owls, the lovely Hedwig on my right and the charming Hermes to my left, to consecrate their mating (which is for life), and to officially and publicly record the names of their offspring, Nimue, Thessaly, and Circe. Before I perform the rituals and welcome the little ones into the sacred circle of owl society, we shall hear either side speak on behalf of the owls." He turned to Harry.

Harry, looking at Hedwig on his shoulder, blindingly white and fluffy in the light coming through the window, felt suddenly lost. He had no idea what to say – he hadn't even realized it was expected of him. Hedwig, sensing his unease, hooted softly at him and brushed his face with her wing. Harry turned around and looked at the assembled. Hermione was smiling.

"Erm," he began. "I want to thank Ron, otherwise I wouldn't have even known about this ceremony at all. And I want to congratulate Hedwig on finding such a fine mate …" and then he looked down at the three owlets, "… and producing such beautiful daughters. May there be many more," he finished.

There was applause. "Thank you. Most eloquent, Mr. Potter," Bernie said. "And now you, Mr. Weasley."

Relieved that Percy was now in the hot seat, Harry relaxed and watched the older boy. Percy took a good look at Hermes (and Hermes considered him right back) before beginning. He turned to the assembled and took a breath.

"When I found out this feathery fool had knocked up Harry Potter's owl, I was mortified." Percy's lips went through some interesting contortions as his family laughed heartily at him. He pulled himself together, though. "However, once I got used to the idea, once I saw how devoted Hermes was to Hedwig and 'the girls,' as I've come to refer to them, I have the utmost faith that my owl made a wise decision. He could not have chosen a better owl for a mate." Percy's voice dropped, and he stared at the floor. "This is partly because I have not known a better owl … and partly because I cannot think of an owl owned by a better wizard."

Here it was – Percy's apology for everything. The nasty letters, the fighting, the name-calling, all of it. It was not much, in fact it was rather vague, but this was as good as it would get, and Harry knew it. So he accepted the gesture and shook the other boy's hand.

"Thank you, Percy," he said sincerely. Percy nodded at the rug. Again, there was some applause.

"Well done, both of you," Bernie praised. "And now comes the fun part."

He placed the ledger on Dumbledore's desk behind him, signed the names of all the owls involved in an elegant script, and then turned to everybody with a small sack. Carefully opening the top, he dipped a pudgy forefinger into it and gently touched Hedwig's forehead. Harry looked at her – she now had a smudge of ash there. The procedure was repeated for Hermes and then for the three little ones.

Bernie then shooed everyone away a few steps.

"Owls," he said as he rolled up his sleeves, "have very powerful bonds with witches and wizards. While we stand united, so do they. This ceremony marks not only the coming together of this exquisite avian pair, but of two families, one quite small," he said, leaning his head at Harry, "and one quite large," he continued, inclining his head at the gathered Weasleys. "But both are equally important to the safety of this new, beautiful little brood." And here he inclined his head at the chicks. They peeped at him.

"However, as much as this ceremony is about the human element, it is ultimately, shall we say, for the birds." There were smiles all around. "These chicks are fledging, and in accordance with the sacred ritual, I shall lead them and their parents on a short flight to welcome them into owl society. Please excuse the commotion."

And without anymore warning than that, Mr. Barnall disappeared and in his place was a large, creamy-colored barn owl, with a heart-shaped face and glittering black eyes. He flapped up onto Dumbledore's desk and hooted loudly, beating his wings and preparing to take off. His call sounded ancient, like a song of the earth. It was taken up by Hedwig, Hermes, and then by Thessaly, Nimue, and Circe, who were itching to break free of Harry's grip and fly. The barn owl pushed off the desk and flew out the open window, followed immediately by Hedwig and Hermes, and Harry gave the little ones a toss (he felt his heart explode a little as he did it) to get them airborne. They flapped magnificently, effortlessly following their parents and the leader.

Everybody hurried to the window to look out and watch the formation flight around the grounds. Harry, exalted by the sight, was whistling and cheering them on. Hermione threw her arms around him. Ron was crying. After a few moments of flying around, the owls came gliding back in through the window. Hermes landed gently on Percy's head. Hedwig stopped on her usual perch on Harry's shoulder. But the chicks, who hadn't quite mastered the art of landing just yet, careened into Harry's arms while flapping wildly, and knocked him on his rear end. Hedwig was forced to take off to avoid hitting something, and only re-settled when her wizard was upright with his glasses back in place.

The barn owl flapped in almost lazily, padded across the floor to stand before Dumbledore's desk, and suddenly Bernie was back. "I hereby declare this Owl Joining complete," he said, wiping his face with a rag. He turned to the all the owls and wiped the soot from their faces. "Welcome," he said to Hermes. "Welcome," he said to Hedwig. "Welcome Welcome Welcome," he said to the owlets.

Everyone laughed. In the middle of such a dreary war, no one in the room was about to take this tiny spark of happiness for granted. Harry knew that in a few weeks the owlets would be gone for good, off to the ministry to be trained as carrier owls and then to Eyelops to find good homes. But just for now, in these few blessed moments of peace, he relished the feel of Hedwig's sharp talons on his shoulder and held her babes as tightly as they would let him.

THE END

* * *

Author's Note: Hedwig, being a magical owl, has a magical owl e-mail address. She can be reached at prettygoldeneyes hootmail. com. Hootmail is for owls only, but Hedwig and I worked something out, so I have been granted rare access. If you wish to ask her a question, go ahead and type one in your review. I will pass it along to her and try to get an answer for you. :D Thank you for reading!!! 


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